


36 questions

by nokomisfics



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Phan - Freeform, posted from my tumblr ooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nokomisfics/pseuds/nokomisfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan’s looking at him with that glint in his eye, that it’s-four-AM-I-am-the-opposite-of-sober-right-now look that Phil hasn’t seen in a while, and Dan hasn’t even suggested anything yet but he already knows he’s screwed. [or, the one in which Dan and Phil try out Dr. Avon’s experiment]</p>
            </blockquote>





	36 questions

Dan has been sitting in his sofa crease, staring at the wall in front of him for nearly an hour when Phil walks into the lounge.

"Dan," he calls gently, settling down on the sofa beside him. When Dan doesn’t react, he prods him on his arm. "Are you having another crisis?"

"Yeah," Dan deadpans. "An insomniac one."

Phil winces. “Couldn’t sleep? Yeah, me neither.” It’s not been a hot day, just a dry one. Twenty-four hours without rain can really muck with the head of a true Londoner.

Dan turns his head slowly to stare at Phil. “It’s - what - three in the morning?”

"Four," Phil corrects casually, although he’ll have to admit it’s far too late to still be awake by both of their standards.

"What the fuck are you up for?" mumbles Dan, but his eyes have glazed over and he’s reclaimed that distant, lost look.

Phil punches his arm again. “Hey, snap out of it. I’ve got something to show you.” He hands Dan his iPhone, which is open to the Twitter app. “Look at this.”

Dan quickly scours the tweet, before clicking on the link and reading the article. Phil pulls his legs up to his chest and waits patiently for Dan to be done. When Dan hands his phone back to him, his eyes are significantly brighter and his demeanour less drifty.

"Sounds interesting," he comments.

Phil snorts. “Yeah, that would be one word for it. Just thought I’d show you because it seemed pretty cool.” But Dan’s still looking at him with that glint in his eye, that it’s-four-AM-I-am-the-opposite-of-sober-right-now look that Phil hasn’t seen in a  _while_. “What?” he asks, adjusting his fringe self-consciously, and then feeling stupid for doing it. This is Dan. Why would he feel self-conscious around  _Dan_?

"I was just thinking," says Dan simply, but his voice lilts up in the end mischievously and he hasn’t suggested anything yet but Phil already feels screwed.

"Maybe you should lay off that for a while," he jokes.

"We should do it."

"Sleep? Yeah. I was thinking so, too."

"No." Dan laughs shortly. He motions to Phil’s iPhone. "Do the thing. Attempt to fall in love with each other, or whatever."

"Yeah." Phil licks his bottom lip. "No. Not a good idea."

"Why not?" Dan’s whining now, stretching out and curling up further into himself all at once. "They say the experiment can make  _anyone_  fall in love with each other.”

"We aren’t strangers," Phil states. "For one."

"So?" Dan shrugs lazily. "Whoever wrote that article didn’t find it a necessary factor."

"And secondly," Phil carries on, a strange sort of panic in the pit of his stomach, "We’re  _friends_.”

This is when Dan smirks, slow and sinful. “And if it doesn’t work, then we can write to this Dr. Avon and tell him he’s  _wrong_.”

 _And what if it works?_ Phil’s brain thinks it before he can stop himself. He knows Dan has a point - they’re as close as friends are capable of getting, there’s a very good chance he’ll know most of Dan’s answers before he says them and, objectively speaking, what could conceivably happen at the end of the test? He’ll know new things about Dan, perhaps. He’ll be more acquainted with the brownish hues of his eyes. The test, he can imagine, relies mainly on the euphoric frenzy of knowing all there is to know about a stranger, but they aren’t strangers, so they’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing to lose.  

Phil feels at least a little bit drunk.

"Fine then," he concedes. "We’ll do it. Or something. Until either of us falls asleep, at least."

"Awesome." Dan sinks deeper into his sofa crease, stretching his legs out in front of him so that his toes poke Phil’s. "Thirty-six questions, right? Go."

Phil’s already on it, finding the correct link in the article and tapping on it. His heart is beating unnecessarily quickly, and he’s pretty sure Dan can sense it. He struggles to collect himself, looking up at Dan once or twice to find the boy scrutinising him thoughtfully. This isn’t normal - they don’t usually stare at each other, don’t usually have long pensive silences, but he supposes nothing is quite normal at 4AM in the gosh darn morning.

If Phil knew this was going to happen, he wouldn’t have shown Dan the stupid tweet in the first place.

"Right," says Phil when the page has loaded. He scrolls down to locate the questions. "Ready?"

Dan’s signature cheeky smile is on his face now, that bloody dimple digging a crater into his cheek. He answers laughingly, “Hit me with your best shot, Phil.”

So Phil does.

"Question number one: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Mila Kunis.  _Duh_. You?”

"Um. Jennifer Lawrence, I think. Question number two: Would you like to be famous? In what way?"

"Hate to break this to you but I  _am_  famous.” A soft laugh. “YouTube.”

"We’re semi-famous at the most. Same. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?"

“‘Course I do. To not come across as a blubbering prick,  _obviously_.”

"I don’t. Kinda prefer to jump right into it, to be honest."

"That explains a  _lot_ , Philip.”

"Shut up, you’re ruining the mood."

“ _You’re_  ruining the - “

"What would constitute for a ‘perfect’ day for you?"

"Quiet days in, I think. Sleeping in and lazing about in a hoodie and having pizza for breakfast and tumblr on the couch and an existential crisis in the hallway that you’ll hopefully pull me out of."

"Without a doubt. Mine’s almost the same, except you don’t have an existential crisis at all." Something in Phil’s head is saying that is probably means something if they include each other in their idea of a perfect day without even thinking about it. Phil throws a pillow over that something, smothering the idea into figurative ash.

"When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else? Wait, I know this one. In the shower."  

"Is that your answer or mine?" Dan begins to laugh.

"Both, honestly."

"I don’t think I’ve ever sung to someone else, though."

"You have. Yesterday, when you were trying to get the name of that song and you hummed it to me to see if I knew."

"Oh, right. Youth by Daughters, I remember.  _You’ve_  never sung to anyone, though.”

"Don’t think I have. Next: If you were able to live to the age of ninety and retain either the mind or body of a thirty-year-old for the last sixty years of your life, which would you want?"

"Oh God. Sounds like something one of our subscribers would ask us." Dan looks thoroughly bemused.

Phil giggles at his face. “I think I’d choose the mind of a thirty-year-old over the body of one. You?”

"I don’t even know,  _fuck_.” Pause. “Mind, I guess.”

"Awesome. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?"

"From embarrassment, most definitely."

“ _Dan_.”

"Fine. In a car accident, I’m pretty sure about that."

"How morbid. I’d like to go in my sleep but it’ll probably be something really freakish. Like a shark attack."

"Or a heart attack, which is statistically more likely."

"Yeah, well. Name three things you and your partner - that’s me, in this case - have in common."

"Okay, uh." Dan grins. "Fringes. Straightened hair. Pale skin."

"That was basic," criticizes Phil. "A slightly scary sense of humour, awkward dispositions - "

“ _Oi_.”

"You know it’s true. And living spaces."

"Living spaces!" Dan falls back onto the couch, shaking with laughter. "You’re mad. We’re breaking the experiment."

"It was your idea," Phil points out solemnly. "Next question: If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"

"I dunno." Dan’s voice has gone a bit softer. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He thinks hard for a long moment before answering. "I would’ve liked to grow up in the same neighbourhood as you, I suppose."

Phil has to catch his breath. Then he clears his throat, nods. “Yeah, me too. Oh, crap, I skipped a question. Okay, here’s the previous one: For what in your life do you feel most grateful?”

"YouTube career," answers Dan automatically.

"Ditto. And meeting you - that was pretty rad."

Dan doesn’t reply.

"Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible."

They both burst out laughing at the same time.

"I don’t think that’ll be necessary," Phil says conclusively, and Dan nods in agreement. "I’m pretty sure our subscribers could answer that off the top of their heads, actually."

"It scares me how I don’t doubt that for a second."

Phil bites back another chortle. “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?”

"I’d like to fly, really."

“ _Now_  who’s breaking the experiment?”

"Well fucking fine, then. I’d like to have the ability to avoid questioning the ways of the universe whenever I wish to."

"Fair enough. I’d like to have enhanced Mario Kart skills."

"Fuck you, Phil." But Dan’s laughing.

"I’m moving on to set two now. D’you want to read these out?"

"Set two? Jesus Christ. Alright, I think."

Phil leans forward to hand Dan his iPhone, and he does so, their fingers brush. Phil settles back quietly, but his cheeks feel warm and he’s far too buzzed right now to question it all.

"Okay, set two. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"

"What does ‘the truth about yourself’ even mean? I’m pretty sure I know what  I am, thank you very much crystal ball."

"Sexual orientation, maybe," suggests Dan jokingly.

"I’m sexually oriented towards your mum," Phil shoots back. "I’m going to go with the truth about the future in this one. If the aliens are attacking us, I’d like a heads up."

"I’d actually like to know about my sexual orientation, I think," remarks Dan simply. Phil waits for Dan to follow that up with a sarcastic comment, but he doesn’t. He carries on, instead. "Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?"

Phil takes his time with this one, wanting to take the questions as seriously as Dan seems to be taking them. “I’ve wanted to go back to India for a while. Spend a proper month there, travel a lot. I haven’t gone yet because - well, we’ve been busy, for one.”

"And?"

"And I didn’t think you’d want to come with me, and I didn’t want to go alone. I guess."

Dan regards him quietly for a moment. “Of course I’d come with you,” he says simply. “What would I even do here without you? Prick. I’ve wanted to start working out properly, but you know that.”

"Yeah, kind of."

"Haven’t because I’m a bloody good procrastinator."

Phil grins.

"Next: What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?"

"So far? I’m going to have to say - moving to London, hitting two million subscribers. Being in Big Hero 6."

"Big Hero 6," reiterates Dan. "That’s mine. What do you value most in a friendship? I think I tend to befriend people who make me feel validated."

"Honestly, being able to do crazy things like what we’re doing right now without being afraid of messing things up for good."

Dan chortles. “Nice one. What is your most treasured memory?”

Phil takes a minute to reply. “Back in, like, 2008 or something. It must’ve been a week after new year’s and we were all in my room, getting drunk and laughing over some stupid YouTube videos. I still remember how the chaps looked, sprawled out on my bed guffawing madly.  _God_ , we were dumb back then. But it was a good night, because I still remember it, and that must mean something, right?”

"Right."

"What’s yours?"

Dan’s eyes meet Phil’s, and there’s something sobering in them. “Manchester train station, four years ago.”

"Oh." A smile slowly spreads across Phil’s face. "Actually, that’s probably mine too."

"Remember the first thing you said to me?"

“ _Oh my God, you’re real_ ,” Phil recounts.

"You’ve always been so fucking silly," says Dan, and there’s some sort of affection in his tone that creeps across to Phil and steals his breath away. "Okay - what is your most terrible memory?"

"Getting attacked by the squirrel. Yours is, wait, let me guess. Nutella video?"

Dan cringes loudly - Phil didn’t even know that was possible. “Yep. Nutella video. Fucking  _horrid_ , that was. Next one: If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”

Phil cringes. “Getting serious, are we? I’d make that trip to India, I guess. But I wouldn’t make any major changes. I feel pretty happy where we are right now.”

He realises too late that he’s said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’.

"I do, too," answers Dan idly. "Suppose I wouldn’t change anything either. Uh - what does friendship mean to you?"

"Means being comfortable," Phil says automatically, like he’s had the answer at the tip of his tongue for a while. "Means saying whatever, being honest, not being scared. Looking at something and knowing immediately they’d love that for Christmas. Means knowing someone inside out, and in return being known inside out."

Dan exhales slowly. “Shit, yeah. Okay. There’s that.”

Phil laughs in embarrassment.

"A friend is, like, someone you’d share your tumblr with."

Phil raises an eyebrow. “I’ll let our subscribers know you consider all of them your friends.”

"No." Dan reaches over to punch him. "You know what I mean. Friendship means, um. All of what you’ve said, but more about being comfortable also. Like this. Talking to you about this. Friendship is." Dan coughs. "The thing I have with you."

Normally, Phil would laugh it off. He doesn’t. “What’s the next question?”

Dan looks down at the iPhone in his hand, his cheeks pleasantly red. “What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

"Love and affection to me are like water to trees," declares Phil loudly. "I must be nourished with them daily lest I die."

"How’ve you survived with me for so long, then?"

"I derive from the all the love and affection I’ve got stored up from when I was young."

"You’ve officially lost it," accuses Dan, laughing. "I don’t know about this one, actually. I like hugs."

Phil rolls his eyes.

"It’s four in the fucking morning," Dan says by way of excuse. "Right - alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items." He looks up at Phil. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"I’ll go first. Humorous."

“ _Jesus_. Um. Shares hoodies.”

Phil laughs. “Good for fashion advice.”

"Good for  _life_  advice.”

"Helps out with dinner when asked nicely."

"Rescues from existential crises occasionally."

"Is good for watching anime with."

"Always gets tumblr jokes."

"Is caring and compassionate."

"Is ridiculously cheesy."

"Makes the worst puns."

"Inspires me sometimes."

"Closes the cupboard doors behind me."

“ _Prick_.” Dan’s grin is huge and blinding. “Okay, I think that was more than five.”

"Aye." Phil hugs his legs closer to his chest. "What’s next?"

"How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?"

Phil lets out a low whistle. “Is this where we’re supposed to go deep?”

Dan tips his head back and closes his eyes. “Perhaps,” he mumbles. “There’s not much about my childhood you don’t know already, though.”

"I’d say I had a good one," volunteers Phil. "I mean. My family is nice, reasonably warm. Fairly close. And I was a happy kid."

"You’re a happy  _person_.”

Phil laughs and nudges Dan with his big toe. “Your turn.”

"Er." Dan draws out the single syllable, buying himself a bit more time to think, his eyes still shut. Phil wonders briefly if he feels braver this way.  "You’ve met my family."

"I have."

"Pa’s aloof most of the time. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids, I guess. But my mum’s nice. And we never really interacted with the rest of the family. I don’t remember meeting my cousins ever. So, uh, I guess we’re close, in the sense that we still keep in touch and my parents still worry. Which is nice."

"Yes," says Phil, his eyes on Dan. "It is."

"And my childhood, um. I’ve always been kind of messed up, I think, because I don’t really remember playing in the park and stuff like that. I remember trying to make friends a lot. I think." Dan clears his throat. His eyes fly open, catching Phil by surprise, but neither of them look away. "I think you had a happier childhood than me."

Phil swallows. “I’m sorry.”

"Whatever for?" Dan grins wryly, raising his eyebrows at the next question. "Okay, how do you feel about your relationship with your mother?"

"She doesn’t talk to me half as much as I wish she would."

"Mine worries too much, but in all fairness I’ve given her reason to. I don’t think we’ve ever really understood each other, but she loves me anyway, and I think about that sometimes."

Phil gets that.

"And that was the last question of set two," proclaims Dan with a winning smile. "Only one-third of the questions left. Your turn."

The iPhone is passed back to Phil, and maybe it’s just his imagination, but behind the curtains the sky seems to have lightened. The sun is rising.

"Question number twenty-five," says Phil. "Make three true ‘we’ statements each."

Dan shoots him a confused glance.

"Like," Phil elaborates, “‘We are both in this room feeling…’ or something."

"Right." Dan scratches at the back of his neck. "Uh. We both should be sleeping right now."

"Damn straight. We both have a very busy day tomorrow."

"We both enjoy stealing each other’s cornflakes."

"We both sing in the shower loudly and tunelessly."

"Speak for yourself, mate!" shouts Dan, affronted. "We both feel rather drunk right now."

"We are both wearing each other’s hoodies."

Phil doesn’t realise until he’s said it that it’s true - Dan’s wearing Phil’s university hoodie and Phil’s wearing Dan’s old blue one with the white lettering that has long since faded. It’s become so natural - the whole hoodie exchange program they’ve got going on - that it only occurs to him how suggestive it seems once he’s said it out loud.

"Pretty sure I’ve got your boxers on, too," Dan says, and Phil is caught in a dangerous valley between bursting out laughing and sitting down to have a very serious conversation with himself.

He looks down instead, searching frantically for the next question. “Complete this sentence: I wish I had someone with whom I could share…”

"A good fuck," drawls out Dan. Phil kicks him reflexively, his cheeks flaming, but Dan just stares back at him innocently. "Go on."

"A decent and mature conversation," says Phil stuffily, cracking a small grin when Dan chuckles at his reply. "Number twenty-seven. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner - uh, with me - please share what would be important for him or her - me - to know."

Dan shakes his head, still chuckling. “We are the  _best_  of friends, Phil. You already know all there is to know about me.”

"I  _know_.” Phil thinks for a moment. “Okay, what about this: tell me something I should know about you if we’re going to fall in love. Or whatever.”

A corner of Dan’s lips turn up in a smirk. “I’m excessively loud in bed.”

Phil groans. “Have we reached that point of the night where you can’t quite think past how bloody horny you are?”

"Yes, I suppose."

Phil glares at him. “I’d think you should know,” he says after a moment, in the spirit of keeping the experiment going, “That I’m that person in a relationship who, like, is always more invested than the other.”

Dan contemplates him for a moment, and then says: “If I love you, I’ll probably ruin you.”

Phil blinks. “What was that?”

"My answer. To the question."

"Oh." Phil blinks again. "Right. Okay. Next one, um." He glances down. His cheeks are red, he’s bloody sure of it.  _Fuck_. “Tell your partner, that’s me, what you like about them, me. Okay, restarting.” Phil sucks in a breath. Exhales. “Tell me what you like about me; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.”

"I like how blue your eyes are."

The pit of Phil’s stomach has given away. There are butterflies. No, there are monsters. He is wrecked. “I like how you look in my clothes. I like knowing you’re wearing my boxers.”

He really doesn’t want Dan to reply to that, so he carries on quickly.

"Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life."

"There are none you don’t already know of," says Dan softly.

"Yeah. Stupid question, really. Number thirty - when did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?"

"In front of another person - not for long, I think. Maybe that time when I decided not to go back to college. When I cried in front of you."

Phil looks up at Dan. “Yeah.”

"By myself - sometime last week."

Phil frowns. “Why?”

"I don’t remember. Your turn."

"I don’t think I’ve ever cried in front of anyone since I was a kid," he says, subdued. "Not by myself, either."

"See what I mean?" mumbles Dan. "Happy person."

Phil grins. “Thirty one. Tell me something you like about me already.”

"Your bloody eyes," Dan exclaims, laughing. Then he sobers up. "And how much you care. About other people too, people you’ve hardly known, but mostly about me. You make me feel validated. It’s nice."

"I like how you’re a different person with me, and I get to keep this part of you a secret."

"Phil," says Dan.

Phil’s fingers are shaking. He ignores him. “Thirty two. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

"Marriage, I think."

"Friendship," answers Phil, feeling too cheesy to function. "Thirty three. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?"

"I’d regret not telling my mum I’m fine, really, that everything’s kind of okay and it’s about time she stops worrying about me. Except if I were going to die, that would go against my argument. But. Yeah."

He sounds choked up. Phil doesn’t look up at him, saying instead, “I’d regret not telling anyone that I’m bisexual.”

"Phil."

"Yeah." Phil blinks forcefully, looks up at Dan, gives him a rueful smile. "Surprise."

"I’m not  _that_  surprised,” Dan rushes to clarify, but Phil just rolls his eyes. Dan grins at him. It’s okay, Phil thinks. It’s very okay. Of bloody course it would be - this is  _Dan_  he’s talking to. Everything’s okay with his idiot of a best friend.

"Thirty four. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?"

Dan yawns loudly. “Laptop. Obvious reasons.”

"Laptop," agrees Phil.

"What about the filming equipment, though?" asks Dan, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Well. You could grab our laptops, and I’d get the equipment."

"Works for me."

"Thirty five. This is an odd one. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?"

“ _Disturbing_?” Dan frowns. “That’s an weird word to use. Adrian, maybe. Because he’s younger than me and I’d be expecting to die first.”

"My Pa," Phil answers in turn. "Because we’ve never really talked and I think I’d like to rectify that before he, you know."

"Yeah."

"Wow. Last question."

"Wow." Dan laughs. "Time flies, eh?"

"Thirty six. Share a personal problem and ask my advice on how I would handle it. Also, ask me to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen."

"Jesus," Dan swears. "We really shouldn’t be doing this on close to no sleep."

Phil shrugs. “Too late. Literally. Want to go first?”

"I don’t have any  _problems_ ,” argues Dan. “Except for the obvious one hiding in my pants.”

All of a sudden, Phil can hear Dan’s voice in his head saying  _pretty sure I’ve got your boxers on, too_ , and he’s convinced he can’t take this anymore. “Alright, that’s enough.” Phil pushes himself up and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his fringe but not quite caring about it. “I think we should just move on to the next part.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Eager, are we?”

Phil ignores him, still reading from the article on his phone. “This is supposed to be, like, the pinnacle of the experiment. We’ve got to stare into each other’s eyes for exactly four minutes. No breaking eye contact.”

Dan raises a hand comically. “Are we allowed to blink?”

“ _Yes_. Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Dan shifts out of his sofa crease and scoots closer to Phil so that they’re both sitting cross-legged on the sofa and facing each other. The sun has most definitely begun its walk up the sky by now, yellowish-orange light slipping past the curtain and bathing the room in a soft, comforting glow.

Dan’s eyes have caught the light, and they seem to be on fire. Every cell in Phil’s body is telling him he this is all a very,  _very_  bad idea. But Phil has never been particularly good at listening to the little cells in his body. In fact, Phil has always been rather reckless, and that explains this. It explains a whole bloody lot.

"Are you ready to fall in love with me?" asks Dan cheekily, and something’s thudding in Phil’s chest. Must be the butterflies. No. The monsters.

"One second," he says, pulling up the timer on his iPhone and setting the countdown to four minutes. He sets it in between of them, then looks up at Dan. "Ready?"

"As much as I’ll ever be."

Phil reaches out, taps the big red button in the middle of the screen of his phone. “Go.”

Now it must be made clear that Phil has had plenty to be scared of in all his life. There have been strict middle school teachers, and remarkably rude bosses, and his own mum has not always been a bright and polite creature. So Phil has had his fare share of feeling intimidated, wanting to cower in fear.

But that is nothing compared to this.

This is terror. This is looking into brown orbs and realising he knows nothing, even when he knows a whole lot. This is waking up when it’s still dark outside, and wondering fleetingly if the day has happened without you in it. This is Dan, who is familiar, but this is also Dan, who is not. This is Dan who is sitting mere inches from him, his eyes wide and glinting, softening by the second, spinning into and out of focus so quickly Phil feels dizzy.

Oh,  _God_. He feels so bloody dizzy.

It is weird at first. Horridly awkward. They do not know how to keep the rest of their faces; they giggle occasionally, cheeks redden, blinks occur often and excessively. Phil feels like a teenager having his first crush, except he’s an adult now, and he’s looking at Dan.

And Dan’s looking back.  _Jesus_ , Phil thinks this might be the most difficult part. Not just looking, but being looked at in return.

He feels vulnerable, naked, on edge. Dan is there, and Dan is staring, his eyes eager but guarded.

They’re just doing this for the experiment, Phil reminds himself, it’s just a means to end it. But this isn’t something he’s ever done before, not with Dan. He tries to study Dan’s eyes objectively: brown, specks of orange, swirly lines and a black pupil. Pretty eyes. That’s all well and good.

Phil remembers suddenly in alarm something Dan said earlier:  _I like your eyes._  Phil knows he has nice eyes, in a very detached acknowledgement of the few ways in which he may be physically appealing. He knows they look green under streetlights and purplish-blue under the sun. But he doesn’t want Dan to be captured by the swirling lines. He wants Dan to dig deeper.

He cannot explain.

 _My boxers_ , he thinks to himself.  _My hoodie_. Dan is dressed almost entirely in Phil’s clothes.  _My Dan._  He tries the thought on for size.  _My Dan._  He tries on the thought of Dan curled up on his chest, all that pent-up brilliance spread over Phil, cuddled in, warm and safe. He tries on the thought of waking up around Dan, having him under the duvet and in his arms, breathing against his cheek and neck and hair. And then he thinks of Dan naked under him, the soft moans he might make when Phil slides in and out, in and out.

His pupils have dilated. He’s grown stiff. Dan gasps softly - he knows.  _He knows._

After what feels like an excruciating amount of time, the four minutes are up. Phil wants to get to his feet, bolt, but he’s too tired. He’s drained.

He slumps back, into the couch. Dan stares at him, before imitating his posture on the other end, settling back into that bloody sofa crease. He looks crumpled, and Phil thinks if he were to hold a stethoscope to his self right now, he would be able to hear his heart breaking.

"Shit," says Dan simply.

Phil laughs. “Yeah.”

Slowly, as if he believes he is in a dream and might wake up any moment now, Dan crawls up the couch and onto Phil, holding himself up so that he is hovering over him. He is so close Phil can taste his breath, hear him swallow. His heart is dancing. It is  _failing_.

Dan presses their hips together. Phil swears, loud and clear. “ _Fuck_.”

"You want me." Dan’s looking at him in wonder, his eyes dark. "You  _want_ me.”

"You have no idea," Phil breathes through his teeth, bucking his hips up, eager for the friction.

"No," agrees Dan. "I don’t." The look in those brown eyes is predatory now, almost sinful. But Phil doesn’t mind. He’s surrounded by warmth and comfort and  _Dan_ , and he wouldn’t mind going to hell for this.

That thought should scare him more than it does.

"Show me," Dan drawls now, leaning down to rest his lips on Phil’s, and that is really all the incentive he needs.

He takes, and takes, and takes. Dan, soft lips, teeth. Tongue. Oh,  _Jesus_. When Phil bites down on Dan’s lip, he whimpers, and when Dan inhales, he drags the air right out of Phil. Phil is drowning. No, Phil is flying.

Phil is reaching down, gripping Dan’s hips and pressing them down roughly, rubbing their erections together. Dan moans now, loud and clear, and Phil pulls away. This is all too much. No, it isn’t enough.

 _No._  They need to stop.

"Dan," he pants. "Please. Wait."

Dan pulls away, but not too far. He buries his face in Phil’s neck, breathing into his skin harshly. “What’s wrong?”

"Nothing." Phil swallows, wondering if there is a non-cheesy way of saying _Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right. Please continue_. He wants to talk about it, but he doesn’t know what to say. How bloody convenient.

"Listen." Dan pushes himself up with his elbows so that he can look at Phil directly. His hair is dishevelled, his lips are plump and red and his eyes are _wild_. “It’s obvious by now that Dr. Avon was definitely not mad when he thought up that experiment.”

Phil wants to laugh. “Yeah,” he says instead. “Pretty obvious.”

Dan smirks prettily at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

"Mean what?"

"That you’re in love with me."

And Phil just has to look at Dan, because  _really_ , he’d reckoned they were past that already.

Later, much later, when the sun has risen properly and Phil is lying beside Dan on the sofa, sweaty and spent, he catches himself thinking that if this is how it feels to be ruined by Dan, he really wouldn’t mind at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr for more frequent updates!
> 
> oopsiwritefanficdonttellmum.tumblr.com


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